It’s hot again. We visited Mimi’s school and met her teacher. I sent my fifth novel to beta readers. I found not one but two pools of rotting vegetable matter in the kitchen today. All … is empty and void. I’ll get my brain back by and by, but for now, I’m compulsively paging through Edward Gorey’s The Unstrung Harp or: Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel, and not much else. Like Mr. Earbass I would drink tea, but it’s too hot.
Mimi and I stopped by this small farm to see what was up. I don’t remember so many chickens last autumn.